Middle Age Pause

Is this what it feels like to be "middle aged"?  I feel both young and old, yet a little bit neither. My heart is not quite done feeling young, still wanting to be connected to youth culture, to feel hip, stylish, relevant.  If I peek down inside, I can see the tears, the tiny ruptures, the torn, rough edges, where I've already begun to break away from all of that.   Parts of me have begun to drift in new directions.  But I feel I haven't quite arrived yet. Roads wind behind me, as before me many trail-heads beckon.  Wide oceans invite...mixed metaphors.  The thirties are such an odd, strange decade in this age, for this generation.  By now, my parents would have had a family, a home, careers well-launched, a well established place in life.  Many of my peers are where I am, perhaps having one of the a, b, or c multiple choices, but few have d, all of the above.  I am anticipating arriving, landing on a shore not far from the deck where I stand, where I will start to feel more sure of my footing, more in possession, owning, of my skills and experiences, assured that I am building upon them.  This pause I've taken, to nurture and care for a child, as opposed to nurturing my work, has given me time for stillness and reflection.  The stillness, the thinking, the reckoning can be frightening.  Looking straight into that frightful wind assures me I am not just drifting, but I am sailing, and I am living.